


Last Ride

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chan, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-05
Updated: 2009-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:06:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Oliver finds out about Harry’s crush on him and decides it should be requited before leaving Hogwarts.





	Last Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.
> 
>  **Author's notes:** For [](http://snarkyscorp.livejournal.com/profile)[**snarkyscorp**](http://snarkyscorp.livejournal.com/) as part of the 2009 [](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_springsmut/profile)[**hp_springsmut**](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_springsmut/) exchange.  Her request is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/hp_springsmut/119665.html?thread=2561393#t2561393).  Thanks to [](http://tqpannie.livejournal.com/profile)[**tqpannie**](http://tqpannie.livejournal.com/) for assuring me I wasn’t writing a stalkerfic and to [](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://madam-minnie.livejournal.com/)**madam_minnie** for the beta.

** Last Ride **

Harry sighed as he pulled his jersey over his head. Being the youngest on the team made him even more self-conscious than usual, so he almost always waited until everyone else was gone before changing and showering. The team, after two years, was now so used to his pattern of broom maintenance and general clean-up before showers that no one questioned it any longer. Since it also allowed him to drift into fantasy, watching the others while he performed mindless tasks, he thought he had the better end of the deal in some aspect of his life finally.

At thirteen, he felt like he was at the mercy of his hormones. His body had a mind of its own. During the practice today, Angelina had made a fantastic play and had given him an excited shoulder bump in passing, accidentally brushing her breast against his arm. He'd had to fly at high altitude for ten minutes until Oliver yelled at him before his hard-on subsided.

Of course, as soon as he ended up in formation behind Oliver, he had another hard-on to contend with. He knew he was attracted to Oliver and the idea was strange to him. All he knew of _that sort_ of bloke were Uncle Vernon's rants. But any type of bloke Uncle Vernon didn't like had to be all right in Harry's book. Besides, what should it matter who did what with who?

Harry scratched his head and sat on the bench, absently staring into his locker. Something about that last thought sounded odd, even in his own head, but he couldn't be arsed to sort it out.

"You all right, Harry?"

Harry startled violently, kicking out and knocking over his broom. The sound of it clattering to the floor was unnaturally loud in the silence that followed. He turned, surprised to see Oliver in the doorway of the locker room.

"Yeah, fine," Harry answered, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. "Did you need something?"

Oliver shook his head, entering the locker room. He had changed out of his practice uniform and into his school uniform, though he wasn't wearing his robes. He closed the door firmly behind himself.

Though he told himself it was normal, the butterflies in Harry's stomach were still uncomfortable. "Did you forget something?"

Oliver shook his head again. Crossing the room, he straddled the bench, facing Harry. Harry's eyes were involuntarily drawn downward. He flushed bright red when he realized Oliver was _hard_. His eyes darted upward and he blushed even more deeply.

"I've been hearing things," Oliver began.

"Yeah?" Harry said, backing away. He desperately wished he had a shirt on.

Oliver's next words felt like a caress across his bare skin. "I heard you had a crush on me, Harry."

Harry could only blink stupidly. He hadn't told anyone about his crush and had hoped he hadn't been obvious about it. By this conversation, though, he knew someone had seen him mooning over Oliver. Probably the twins. Watching him, then telling Oliver, was something the Weasley twins would do.

"And if I do?" Harry managed to finally squeak out, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Oliver smiled patiently. "There's nothing wrong with a crush."

Harry relaxed slightly. He wished he still had a shirt or jumper on, but no longer felt quite so uncomfortable.

"But I was thinking," Oliver continued, scooting down the bench toward Harry. Harry squeaked and backed up an equal distance. Oliver smiled that overly-patient smile again, but stopped moving.

"I was thinking," he said as if uninterrupted by their little dance, "that, since it's my last year, you might want to do something about it."

"About it?" Harry repeated, his voice still high.

Oliver advanced again, sending Harry scrambling backwards until he hit the wall. Part of him felt trapped, though he knew he wasn't and could escape at any moment, but part of him was also excited at Oliver's determination.

"Did you want a kiss, Harry?" Oliver asked softly.

Harry hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes until they shot open in shock. Oliver was close enough that their knees were nearly touching. Arousal swept through him and he bit his lip to stifle a moan. Oliver grinned knowingly, reaching up to cup Harry's jaw and tug his lower lip free with his thumb.

Harry nodded. Yes, he wanted a kiss. Oliver's hand alone was making him feel so many good things, so a kiss had to be even better, he thought.

Oliver leaned forward and brushed his lips over Harry's, a mere ghosting of their skin together. Harry gasped, breaking the kiss. Oliver backed away, eyeing Harry closely.

"You all right, Harry?" Oliver murmured.

Harry blinked. "Yeah."

"Again?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah."

Oliver leaned in closer this time, close enough that Harry could feel his body heat. Oliver slipped his hand around the back of Harry's neck, gently pulling him closer. When their lips brushed this time, it was more firm but still gentle. Harry's lips were wind-chapped and he tried to lick them, but only succeeded in licking Oliver's lips.

Oliver moaned slightly, jerking back. "Harry," he gasped.

"Sorry." Harry wasn't exactly sure what he had done but he wanted to do it again.

"Don't be sorry, lad," Oliver murmured. "You ever done this before?" Harry shook his head, eyes wide. Oliver cursed and Harry was afraid he had done something wrong. But, before he could do more than open his mouth to apologize, though for what he wasn't sure, Oliver hissed, "Christ, you're sweet," and crushed their mouths together.

Harry felt briefly like his head was going to explode before he remembered to breathe through his nose. After several deep breaths through his burning nostrils, he could concentrate on Oliver's kiss. He moaned when Oliver licked his lips, but nearly choked when Oliver's tongue slipped into his mouth. Oliver backed off slightly until Harry became used to it, then slowly eased his tongue back in.

Harry's hands found their way to Oliver's shoulders, gripping tightly as much for an anchor as for a place to put his hands that didn't involve wanking and making this last only ten seconds. Oliver moaned and the sound made Harry feel like he could do damn near anything.

Oliver pulled back, panting, and rested his forehead against Harry's. After a moment, he straightened and tugged Harry's glasses off, carefully setting them aside in the nearest locker.

"Your eyes are gorgeous, Harry."

Harry blushed ferociously. His eyes were nothing special. Sure, they were his only legacy from his mother, but in his mind, that meant they were hers and not his. He mumbled thanks and ducked his head.

Oliver caught his chin and brought his face back up. "Really, Harry."

Still blushing, Harry finally took the compliment. "Thank you."

With that, Oliver began to unbutton his shirt. Harry's mouth went dry. Halfway down, Oliver looked up and asked, "You don't mind, do you?" Harry shook his head sharply. Oliver smiled and continued, then slipped his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor.

Oliver glanced up at him through dark lashes. Harry moaned, unable to bite back his reaction to Oliver's bare chest. Oliver smiled, dropping his hands to his trousers. Harry squeaked. When Oliver looked up this time, it was full-face and with an amused smirk.

"Are you . . . are we . . . will you . . . fuck," Harry finally ended, giving up. With each stammered beginning, Oliver's eyebrows had climbed higher, and he burst out laughing with Harry's frustrated curse.

"Harry," he began gently. "I was just hoping to touch you. If you don't want to touch me, I'll keep my trousers on."

Harry blushed furiously. Touching Oliver had been what he fantasized about, so _of course_ he wanted Oliver to continue. He didn't know how to say it, though. Instead, he ducked his head and twisted his hands together, feeling like a stupid little boy.

He scarcely noticed the rustle of clothing until, when Oliver grabbed his hands and pulled him up from the bench, he encountered only skin. He shuddered, feeling light-headed suddenly.

"You all right, Harry?" Oliver asked, ducking his head to whisper in Harry's ear.

Harry didn't trust his voice, so he merely nodded.

"Do you want to touch me?"

Harry swallowed, hard, and nodded.

Oliver took Harry's hand and guided it between them, gently wrapping Harry's fingers around his cock. Harry blew out his breath on a strangled moan, unsure if his knees should buckle or if his eyes should roll back in his head. In the end, he froze.

"You all right, Harry?" Oliver asked softly. Harry shuddered at the sensation of Oliver's breath over his damp collarbone. "You need to move your hand."

"What?"

"Your hand. You need to move it."

Harry blinked. He knew what Oliver was saying but there was some sort of disconnect between his brain and the rest of his body. _Sensory overload_ , he heard in Hermione's voice. Normally Harry wouldn't want Hermione to intrude on his thoughts during such a moment, but in this case it allowed him to gain a small semblance of control over himself.

He gasped for breath.

"You all right?" Oliver asked again, reading up to tangle his free hand in the hair at the base of Harry's neck.

"Yes," Harry rasped, overly pleased his voice wasn't a squeak but a deep groan instead.

"Do you want to keep touching me or do you want your trousers off?" Oliver asked, pressing his lips against Harry's ear.

Harry reflexively jerked at the contact, tightening his fingers against Oliver's shoulder and his fist around Oliver's cock. Oliver moaned briefly in Harry's ear, but stifled himself almost before he started. Harry wondered about that, but Oliver distracted him with a kiss below the ear.

"Off, trousers off," Harry hissed. At the very least, he didn't want to have to explain the stains that would be on them in a minute if he kept them on.

Oliver laughed, then gently pried Harry's fingers off his cock. "Lie back," he murmured. Harry shimmied down the bench to lie flat, his heart pounding furiously in his nervousness. Oliver met his eyes and smiled, reaching for Harry's waistband.

Harry twitched as the backs of Oliver's fingers skimmed his stomach, the jolt nearly making him come. He hissed a breath between clenched teeth and tried to think of _anything_ else.

_The murderous Sirius Black who seemed to be stalking him._

Oliver's hands slid over his hips and under his pants, pushing them down with his trousers. His cock was _aching_.

_The ugliness of Crookshanks._

Oliver eased Harry's hips up just enough to free his trousers, sliding everything down his thighs and off. Harry lay naked on the bench.

_The Basilisk in the Chamber._

_Oh, fuck!_

Harry shot upright as Oliver slid his hand over Harry's cock. One touch was all it took for Harry to come, shuddering and gasping Oliver's name, before collapsing back onto the bench.

Silence filled the changing room until Harry moaned Oliver's name. Oliver bent his head and licked Harry clean in four long swipes of his tongue before moving up the bench to cover Harry's body with his own.

Oliver smiled down at him, then bent to take Harry's mouth in a possessive kiss. Oliver couldn't use his hands to control Harry's head, not with his need to balance his weight on the narrow bench, so he used his mouth and head position to control the kiss and Harry. Harry's hands fluttered on Oliver's sweat-slicked back for a moment before tangling in his hair.

When Oliver finally released his mouth, Harry gasped, desperately sucking air as if he'd been drowning. Oliver smiled and ducked his head, licking the damp skin of Harry's neck. Harry whimpered, unable to hold his thoughts together once Oliver combined the neck licking with other things, namely thrusts of his hips against Harry's and nips of teeth against Harry's earlobe.

The thrusting of Oliver's hips revived Harry's cock somewhat, to Oliver's amusement.

Oliver shifted slightly, bracing his weight on one arm so he could briefly reach down to brush a hand over Harry. "One of the only things I miss about being your age."

Harry arched upward into Oliver's touch, but Oliver moved his hand away, and the motion brought their cocks together. Oliver shuddered, nearly falling on Harry, until he could bring his arm back down to brace himself again.

Harry thrust upward one more time.

"Harry," Oliver moaned, thrusting downward.

With this rhythm, it took less than a minute for Oliver to come, his tension released with a shuddering moan and a heated gush over Harry's stomach and groin. Harry himself had a second, small, orgasm, lost amidst Oliver's.

Wrung out, Harry lay stunned and panting. He'd never expected this. He was happy, but he'd never expected it.

Oliver lifted his head, shifting his weight until he was kneeling between Harry's thighs on the bench. He looked down at Harry with a look Harry could only describe as being somewhere between proud and possessive. Harry smiled.

"You all right, Harry?"

"Never better."

They showered, keeping it mostly chaste by sharing only a few kisses, and cleaned the bench. It took three tries for Oliver to find the locker he had put Harry's glasses in, causing a small amount of panic between them.

Oliver left for the castle first, with Harry following about five minutes later. He was prepared for Ron -- "Bloody hell, Harry, were you drowning in the showers?" -- but wasn't prepared for the knowing wink Justin Finch-Fletchley gave him. Or the coy smile he gave Justin in response, to Justin's delight.


End file.
